"Sherry!"
An exclamation rang out from below. A woman's voice—if I'm interpreting it correctly.
At that moment, I was busy performing gymnastics—or rather, learning how to move on four broken limbs? That massive red blotch wouldn't leave me alone. Behind it, neither Sherry nor the one who had shouted—Claire, and it was definitely her voice—were visible.
Right after the cry came a splash of water, Claire's startled yelp, and at the same time that enormous blotch in my vision began to move, taking on the outline of a gigantic reptile. No—judging by the length and shape of the snout, an alligator. A lizard's snout is shorter, and a crocodile's looks like a Roman numeral five, so this was definitely an alligator. Meanwhile, Claire's figure shifted to the right—from my perspective—and, judging by the outlines of the red glow, to the left from hers. The massive reptile followed her into a fairly narrow tunnel. Hopefully Yamata and Kate wouldn't run into trouble because of that.
When the enormous bulk vanished completely into the side passage, I finally limped my way to the edge of my improvised ring and dropped down—more fell than jumped. I landed on my already somewhat recovered legs and on my right hand, then pulled myself upright.
All right. Primary objective: take care of Sherry. She seemed to be feverish, judging by her slightly raspy breathing. Or maybe I was mistaken. I could see that she was infected, yes—but the incubation period was supposed to be fairly long. Five hours, maybe more.
I lifted the still-unconscious Sherry into my arms. No point letting her lie around on trash, and sliding into the water was a bad idea too—given the water level, she'd simply drown while lying down. From the direction of the reptile's snout came an explosion, and judging by the outlines, its face had been completely blown apart. What on earth did Claire do to it? Guess I'll ask her now. Might as well introduce myself while I'm at it.
Meanwhile, the footsteps of the fearsome conqueror of sewer alligators were drawing closer. Hopping down from bags full of garbage onto solid ground—knee-deep in water, but solid nonetheless—I headed toward the tunnel entrance straight ahead, about three meters away. With firm footing beneath me, it would be easier to push off if needed. Who knew where this conversation might lead?
The water didn't bother me, so I didn't need to climb up anywhere—but Claire would have to come down. I wasn't going to carry Sherry forever; she could take custody of the precious cargo. And honestly, I figured we'd be parting ways for a while anyway. Now I was far more interested in the alligator's carcass. And in the missing Yamata and Katherine. I could replenish myself after that costly fight and wait for my companions.
"Sherry!" Claire burst in without even surveying the room—and immediately spotted me, grabbing for her gun.
Am I really that scary? I don't think so. Mostly human-looking. The leathery wings fold neatly, so you can't see them from the front, and from behind they're only vaguely outlined thanks to the coat. The coat itself—well, yes. Whatever remained of its pristine white was purely symbolic now. It's dark gray, but that mostly makes up for the fact that it's completely soaked, since against this background the dirt and everything else is hardly visible. The extra holes, unfortunately, were impossible to hide. The lab coat was living out its final hours. Black pants—the same old corporate mercenary uniform issue. Worn, but sturdy and comfortable.
I had no intention of smiling and baring my fangs, and with my eyelids lowered, the color of my eyes was hard to make out.
"Who are you? What did you do to Sherry? Let her go. Now."
She aimed the pistol at me as she spoke. Ah, sorry—but you're aiming at the wrong place. A bullet to the heart doesn't scare me.
"My name is Cain Nightroad. I only helped her. I didn't do anything to her. And are you sure about that last order?" I nodded slightly toward the water. "It's up to our knees. If she's lying down, she'll be completely submerged. I didn't shield her all this time just to drown her with my own hands."
I said it very convincingly.
"Hm. You might be right." Claire hesitated. "Then put her on that pile over there. And don't make any sudden moves. I'll wait until she wakes up, and then we'll see exactly how you 'helped' her."
There was a clear edge of threat in her voice.
"Easy enough," I replied casually, setting the girl down on the indicated heap of junk.
"Good."
Claire shifted her stance, gestured—no, ordered?—me to step back, then went to Sherry. She checked her pulse and let out a relieved breath when she realized the girl was alive.
"Now stay right there, or I'll shoot," she warned, still keeping me at gunpoint as she began shaking up the daughter of a scientist—a spirited lady indeed.
No. This wouldn't do. If Sherry woke up, she might blurt out something unnecessary before I could properly position myself in Claire's eyes. And after that, separating from them would be even harder. Looks like I'd have to improvise.
"Sorry, but I'm bowing out here."
At those words, Claire stopped shaking the girl—who was already showing signs of waking—and turned fully toward me. Her gaze hardened as she fixed me in her sights, keeping me at gunpoint.
"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "Trying to slip away from the scene of the crime?"
She was clearly trying to provoke me—hoping I'd start denying things and talk too much.
Wrong approach. Your brother didn't teach you interrogation very well, little Redfield.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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